


Stages of Life

by Findarato



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: Three stages of Haku's life, with a little sugar on top, and a Messiah on the side.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endgame/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** The Messiah Project is not my creation  
>  **Spoilers:** Shikkoku, Dou, Hakugin, Eisei, and Hisui. There’s a ton of headcanons/imaginary scenarios in this, though (and I apologise for any possible discrepancies in my understanding of canon).  
>  **Warnings:** Implied child abuse, violence, candid mentions of death/murder/assassination, etc the stuff that goes on in this canon
> 
> Gosh it's been like a year since I wrote Haku and Eiri. I'll never get tired of this canon, as well as the friends I found in this fandom. Jelle, I'm a day late with this gift but I hope you enjoy it. I also wrote this as thanks for all the translations you've done of the Messiah novel and interviews, because my knowledge of this canon would be incomplete without it.
> 
>  
> 
> [ My many thanks to Kira, for translations and summaries of Messiah that have been invaluable to me as well. ]

**.I.**

The fuss about candy and sweet drinks was that fact that people didn't brush their teeth. Duh, it would all rot away like that, and fall out. He's never had those dreams of his teeth falling, so he's lucky in that department.

Haku always did. It only took one advertisement about rotting teeth, and he would clean his teeth, three times a day. Genetics also played a part; some people had better enamel or something. He's lucky in that area too, considering how he's only been to a dentist twice in all of his fifteen years. Teeth care isn't very high on the list. Nothing was, really.

_"_ _Hey, what did you bring me this time?"_

_"_ _Close your eyes."_

_"_ _A box? I can't tell by just that."_

_"_ _You totally can."_

There's a bag underneath the heap of clothes, books, and other odds and ends that Haku calls his stuff; it's stuffed full with old juice boxes and candy items. On the evenings when he and Sou were alone, with all the candy boxes, a flashlight, and a blanket, they'd build a fort, and, you guessed it—eat more candy and talk. Sometimes, if the bill was paid on time, they would watch TV and he'd imitate the voices from the movies because it made Sou laugh.

When they were old enough to stay outside as late as they wanted to, they camped out in the library until closing time, sat in the park until police officers tried to chase them down, and then they'd run down to the docks; there's an old guard there that takes to them kindly and lets them pass time in his office. Haku keeps his bag of candy and juice in a corner. Sou, though he's stopped studying since he's working now, tries to join him whenever he's free. They stay out past ten, eleven, midnight, sometimes one, before they head by home.

Every night, he pops an extremely sour gummy in his mouth and lets it melt, coating his tongue. It always dissolves by the time they take their shoes off and Sou pops open the door of their apartment (it's always locked; both of them have long ago learned to pick it) for them to slip in. He eats the gummies, to remind himself that once he's an adult, he won't have to taste this anymore.

It's the taste of fear, nightmares, and pain. Not every night, but he remembers each night it does happen and how, despite the tears and ringing in his head, he still brushes his teeth. Smiles at the dusty, speckled mirror. Sometimes he brushes so hard he tastes blood afterwards, which tastes salty compared to the sourness he's been clinging on to.

_"_ _Crying is useless. It will only make the despair grow. Don't think and don't feel anything. That's the way to survive."_

But is it, really? Sou is so capable, throwing away his emotions, backtalking sometimes. He already seems so grown up, and Haku's just tagging along, trying not to cry as he swallows down a whole Nanny in fifteen seconds.

The futility of living occasionally brushes the edges of his mind; too bad you can't die from overeating sugar. Sugar is nothing like the drugs his mother shoots up her arm or puts underneath her tongue. It is nothing like a gun, or knife, or any kind of weapon.

But maybe it's his shield. It's not an addiction because he's gone for days without eating a chocolate or drinking Nanny. Technically. If he's got something to fiddle with in his mouth (that sounds terrible, but come on) it helps him focus. Sou sometimes even keeps hard candy in his pocket and will unwrap one and toss it at Haku, unconsciously.

It keeps him going, at least. If he's got no aim, at least there is Sou, and there is sugar.

And a foldup toothbrush and tiny tube of toothpaste, in the bag of leftover juice and candy. Too bad none of these things could take away the blood that splattered all over him, that first kill. And none of that, could bring his brother back to him.

The past, he would always taste of sour candies and bitter blood.

**.II.**

If there's a god of sugar, he would be the first apostle and the writer of its gospels. All his partners, none of them really cared about the food. They mostly laughed and tolerated it, and occasionally indulged him.

_"_ _Why candy?"_

_"_ _Why not candy?"_

_"_ _I dunno…you have a point. But slow down on it; they say too much sugar causes an early death."_

_"_ _As if there weren't the chance of us dying tomorrow."_

_"_ _Haha, that's true."_

Haku's first partner bought him candy cigarettes, limited anniversary edition that were found outside of Japan. They spent Christmas blowing sugary, peppermint puffs of air at each other, and finished that packet faster than the bottle of wine. He discovers that peppermint kisses are awfully sticky, but tasty.

At the funeral, he bought himself a packet and stood there until he was done, and there was more sugar than salt on his face by the time he finally leaves. He doesn't sleep that night.

A body, with the insides removed and filled with candy so that the smell of it overpowers decay, lingers. He ends up finishing the bottle of wine from Christmas three years ago, and it makes him sick, but at least he did sleep—for two days. They warn his future messiahs to not let him drink after that, or to at least check the date.

Yet it's silly—don't they know wine doesn't go bad. It's his emotions that have expired.

His second partner is a little less humorous, and threatened to sleep out in the hallway if he didn't clean up, so instead of piles of wrappers and juice, there were four giant boxes with labels—boxes, wrappers, juice, and miscellaneous. Most things ended up in the last category. This partner of his liked novels, and so they used those books to weigh down the flaps on the boxes that were bursting.

It's probably why he reads a little more after that. He ends up going through all the books; his memory for once isn't a minefield.

_"_ _You gave me a library card for my birthday?"_

_"_ _You keep leaving crumbs in my books. I know you read, and I know you have time."_

_"_ _Aren't electronic books better?"_

_"_ _I'm not going to argue that with you, Hakkun."_

Haku doesn't attend the second funeral. Instead, he goes to the docks and sets all the books on fire. One by one, as they succumb to the flames, he can picture the stories, and imagines he's sending them up to heaven. This is not desecration; they've talked about this. Afterwards he goes back to his room and upends all the boxes and throws them out. He lies in the piles of wrappers, sticking to body and face, and whispers to them. He will not think about oboe cases.

He still reads, but not paper books if he can.

They shift him around after that. Five years, and he's twenty—coming of age, and he could do some missions in his sleep. Everyone knows by now about his jinx. He doesn't care; if he never graduates, they'll still find a way to make him useful. Maybe make an exception for him. Exceptions always happened.

As for his habits, they didn't change. He doesn't count the number of chocolates he eats in a day, but he still knows the number. He knows the time he takes to walk to down the hallway, he can drink two Nanny boxes. If he's shooting someone, he keeps hard candy against his teeth, like how in history, there were people who had poison in their mouths in case they were caught.

Sugar is a better way to go than cyanide. Bless the name of sugar, and may it reign forever. Perhaps if he prays hard enough, sugar can fix the way things are now, and he can see his brother again. They need to talk.

Maybe Sou will bring candy, and they can sit at the docks.

He sacrifices more money to sugar, and sugar is, at least, easily attainable. For now, in the present time he has to live in.

**.III.**

Kaidou Eiri happens.

Three words are enough to describe this…rather tumultuous time of his life. Sound and taste are two different senses, but the barrage of one influences another, and he sometimes finds himself picking up his trash and putting it away before realising what he's doing. He scatters the wrappers more abundantly after that (much to Eiri's chagrin).

_"_ _Day after day, Haku."_

_"_ _The same to you."_

_"_ _I can't live like this!"_

_"_ _If you can't, how are you still breathing and standing right now? Or yelling? Or maybe I'm just talking to a ghost?"_

_"_ _ARGH."_

Does Eiri think that his yelling will move mountains? It certainly doesn't move Haku; he can barely make Haku do anything. Unless it was missions. Or sex. Whichever one was happening at the moment. Even then, it's pretty funny to watch the tantrum. Plural—tantrums. There's at least three a day. It happens as regularly as his teeth brushing. First time is the morning, because of his alarm clock. The second, over food. The third, about the state of the room.

But the days that Eiri was silent, it was worse. He ends up yelling at himself instead, and screams himself hoarse when he's not in the medical wing. Those days, he doesn't remember eating or drinking much of anything. The threat of getting an IV in him is what finally brings him out of it, and he decides the hospital food is shitty. The instant Eiri is awake and able to sit up, he buys boxes of the food-making kits where you pour water into powder and mix, and makes a tiny hamburger for Eiri.

Eiri laughs so hard that the nurse scolds him for straining his injuries. What's so funny, he didn't understand. The hamburger tasted like actual hamburger. It's different from the candy-type that tastes like gummies. Maybe he should've gotten the sushi-making kit.

All is all that ends well, for that incident. By spring, Eiri is back and yelling daily, and Haku ignores him daily. At least he makes his bed, pulling the covers over the crunchy sound of wrappers. Eiri once asked how on earth they don't have ants, and Haku actually doesn't know.

Haku finally says it's because ants can't be spies, so they can't be allowed in Sakura. Eiri put his head down and gave up on life for a few minutes.

He remembers all these conversations; they had more ridiculous than serious ones, but the serious ones were what reminded him, helped him, to think about the future. Whatever little future they had, even. Post-graduation is more fights, more missions. Russia.

Russian candy is something he's never had before, not even via the black market. He's looked it up, and it revealed some interesting results. If they ever get to Russia, he knows what he's going to buy. Or maybe he'd get Eiri to buy it, along with a bottle of vodka. Graduating just to eat toffee candy, surviving with Eiri…that's all he cares about.

He finds out that his brother is wrong. Sou—no, Serizawa—is wrong about the reasons for survival. His emotions are like liquid and sugar, dissolving and disintegrating. They dripped and ran away from him, leading to nowhere. Eiri is the one who caught it all, smacking him in the middle of his chest. Yelling at him. You'd think he'd be sensitive to yelling after what his mother's lover has done to him, but Eiri's strident voice, it's never cutting in that way. Concerned violence. But even that sounds manipulative, which Eiri is not. It's not like they had normal childhoods, so it makes sense they won't grow up into normal adults. Neither of them finished school or had degrees. They were better at killing than socialising. He's more baffled as to why Eiri makes a fuss about his messes, than he is about the pros and cons of the setup of Sakura. In fact, why were they arguing about this post-graduation? It's all over. That part of their lives is complete.

_"_ _Hey, Eiri."_

_"_ _Let me sleep, Haku."_

_"_ _You're wasting time. I only get to see you maybe four times a year!"_

_"_ _Not if I'm tired. I'll deal with you in…oh, five hours? Here."_

_"_ _You got Nanny?"_

_"_ _And this. Take it."_

_"...no way—you really did get me Russian candy!"_

_"_ _I traded a pair of my shoes for it. Now go. to. sleep."_

It stuck his teeth together, and there's too much milk in it for his liking. But he finishes all of it, and folds the little flap over the shiny cardboard box, fingers tracing over the Cyrillic letters. He makes of point of kissing Eiri and getting the chocolate outer layer all over his lips. After all, Eiri's the sole thing that's better than sugar and the taste of his memories.

Eiri is his future.

**.end.**

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself crave candy by the end of writing this. But what food item I am least likely to have a home? You guessed it--candy.


End file.
